Be careful what you wish for
by Natalilly
Summary: [!COMPLETED!] Christmas. Harry and Hermione stay at the Weasly's, and they idly wonder at what life in the Malfoy mansion would be like, while Draco himself wonders contemptiously what it'd be like as a Weasly... there's magic afoot, however...
1. Be careful what you wish for

**Be careful what you wish for....**

****

Disclaimer: I'm not J.K. Rowling, just incase you were mislead into thinking I was. 

Oh. And I don't own the rights to any of the characters. I can't afford the copyright. 

Author's note: The ultimate in Fi-fo boredness. A fanfic. *sighs* I don't know when this is set, it's just a kind of mindless babble fic, a few "What if's?" and a couple of moral lessons for good measure, seeing Ms. Rowling puts so much stock in them.

And yes, I do babble on a bit. Grit your teeth. I ADORE setting the scene.

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It was Christmas Eve. The tiny little tree was bedecked with seven generations of hand made children's decorations, some tatty old Christmas balls and lights that winked and changed colour magically. Beneath the scrubby and overweighed bows lay a positive mess of brightly coloured packages of different shapes and sizes. 

The hearth was set and blazing, with eleven stocking hung over the mantel, eleven different names embroidered upon the fronts of them in gold thread,  magically enforced with charms that made each stocking wail loudly if the wrong person tried to get into them. They read; Arthur, Molly, William, Charles, Percival, Frederick, George, Ronald, Virginia and, at the end of the line, two noticeably new ones- Harry and Hermione. 

The house itself was s shambles of Christmas mess, there were pine needles everywhere, and tinsel hung from the roof in great, bushy bundles. There were lolly wrappers on the floor, and all the tattered chairs were squashed around the fire, covered in mince tart crumbs and spots of Eggnog. 

Delicious smells spiced the air; plum duff, roasting turkey, cinnamon, pine, gingerbread, and sugar- it was all there. 

By far, it was the best place Harry could think of for Christmas.

He and Hermione had been invited to spend their Christmas break with all nine Wesley's, and Harry had snapped up the opportunity with a great deal of enthusiasm. Hermione only slightly less so. Harry'd never had a proper family Christmas before, and had, so far, found it to be one of the best things that'd ever happened to him. 

All the Weasly's doted on him in such a way, it was almost frightening. Mr. Weasly, as usual, bombarded both Harry and Hermione with questions about gas ovens and other "Muggle" artifacts, eventually getting so dreadfully excited over Hermione's explanation of parking meters he accidentally spilt his Pumpkin juice on Crookshanks, who'd been comfortably curled in his lap. The infuriated cat had left great scratches on his legs as he made a run for it. 

Mrs. Weasly treated him like some starved little forest animal in need of anything and everything she could find to stuff in his mouth, along with a great deal of attention and warm words, affection, hugs and warm, freshly pressed laundry. 

Bill and Charlie were even more fascinating then when Harry last met them, Bill was full of exciting stories about a rouge Goblin strike on Gringotts, where he worked, and the open, pitched battle that had ensured while Charlie told of a particularly cantankerous young Vipertooth he'd been commissioned to spend time studying. 

The twins were full of holiday pranks that more often then not sent the others running from the room- not only from the havoc they'd caused, but the blistering words of Mrs. Weasly as she shrieked scoldings at them like a human Howler.

Ginny had an embarrassing habit of going as red as the Santa hat her father wore every time she saw Harry. She had seemingly gotten over this habit when he first came over, but it came back with a vengeance after a particularly embarrassing moment when she'd walked boldly into the bathroom to use the privy to find Harry stepping out of the shower with naught but a shocked expression. Harry could still hear Ron's laughter... 

Right now he, Hermione and Ron sat in front of the fire, roasting toast to a delicious brown, and using a pat of butter Mrs. Weasly had provided to spread. They'd been promised hot chocolate and marshmallows to roast later on, and in that warm, cosy environment, they'd turned to their favorite subject... verbal Malfoy bashing. 

 "I wonder what that slimy git's up to for Christmas?" Ron said over a mouthful of toast "That's IF his evil family celebrates something as good as Christmas..." 

"Probably getting loads of presents from his _father_" Hermione said wrinkling her nose "Him and his horrid family all basking in their wealth and talking about evil things, no doubt. Poisoning each other with horrible bigotry." She shuddered slightly, bringing her toast out to check it. Harry opened his mouth to add another snide comment to the others' but Ron over rode him.

 "Wouldn't be bad though, I gotta admit, living in a ruddy great house with huge Christmas dinner and all." He sighed, picking at a burnt bit of crust.

 "Come off it, Ron, I think it's great here." Harry butted in, seeing the broody look on Ron's face "It's the best Christmas I've ever had" 

Ron brightened a bit. "S'not that I don't like it here and all" he amended slowly "I just wonder what it'd be like, you know? 'S really unfair that a rotten little-" (He called Malfoy something that made both Harry and Hermione look around nervously for parents) "-like him gets everything." Harry nodded slowly

 "He's always talking about how much he has and how great his Dad is." Harry's mouth made a tight, displeased line as he pictured the scene. 

Hermione stirred the flames viciously. "He's probably boasting. Trying to make us all jealous..." She caught their looks "Oh come on, do you really think he's got that sort of charmed lifestyle? Sure his house is big, no doubt, to have a house elf in it, and we KNOW his father's a bit well off but..." She caught their skeptical looks "Okay fine, maybe we'd all like a bit of Malfoy's life, but there's no use in...."

She cut herself short as Mrs. Weasly came bustling in with the hot chocolate and a packet of marshmallows, taking the butter dish and the bread away, giving them all warm smiles.

When she'd left, they started up their conversation again. 

"It's not like we're going to turn INTO Malfoy or anything Hermione." Harry laughed "you don't have to take it all seriously...."

She frowned into her chocolate, Ron nodded with Harry

"It's just it'd be nice, I mean, you gotta agree with that..."

Hermione gave in and nodded, smiling "It wouldn't be bad." She swirled her hot chocolate. "Going around a dirty great mansion..."

"With parents..." Harry added

"Who have everything..." Ron finished. "Stupid, bloody Malfoy. Why are the good things all wasted on people who don't deserve it?"

"Lucius Malfoy?" 

The voice was suddenly behind them, they all jumped. Harry was drinking at the time, and chocolate came dribbling out his nose. He hastily wiped it away before the others noticed. 

Arthur Weasly had just apparated behind them.

"Ooo, marshmallows! Shove over a bit there Hermione..." He flopped down into a seat near the fire next to Hermione's, and speared a marshmallow

"Is that you Arthur?" 

Mrs. Weasly popped her head around the door, Mr. Weasly beamed.

"Yes Molly love, just apparated from Perkins', Both wish us a merry Christmas. Going down to Yorkshire for their holidays."

"Good thing too, they need a bit of a break. Here, Give me a minute and I'll warm your dinner."

Molly smiled and vanished back into the kitchen. Mr. Weasly popped his browned marshmallow in his mouth, then turned back to the now silent children

"What's this about the Malfoy's?"

"Aw, nothing Dad, just thinking it's be kinda fun to live like they do with all the riches and the big house and stuff, and how it's been wasted on such a slimy family" He scuffed his shoe on the carpet. Mr. Weasly smiled.

 "Oh, I wouldn't say that." He said with a faintly bemused smile. Ron raised his eyebrows and looked at the other two. They both shrugged

"Listen, you've got to remember one thing, kids, and that's nothing is ever what it seems. I've been to the Malfoy mansion..." He made a face. Ron screwed up his nose

"What could be wrong with a dirty great mansion?" He asked with exasperation. Arthur continued to smile 

"Many things Ron, many things. There's more to happiness then celebrity, and there's more to riches then money. But that's enough of that gloomy sort of talk! It's getting late and tomorrow's Christmas...."

They all nodded putting their dishes down, conversation quelled. They all headed upstairs after mumbled "goodnights". In the hall, Hermione wished them goodnight and peeled off into Ginny's room while Harry and Ron continued climbing to the top floor. 

As Harry and Ron turned out the lights in Ron's room, after sliding into bed, Ron sighed "Would be good, I recon.... No matter what Dad says...."

***

**MEANWHILE:**

While Ron lay in his too short red paisley pyjama's in his tiny bright orange room thinking about he glory of the Malfoy's life, Malfoy himself lounged in black-green satin pyjama's, staring at the cathedral ceilings of his room- around the same size as one floor of the Weasly's house. He was spread out on the thick luxurious blankets of his huge bed, thinking. A few seconds before, he'd been reading. The little leather bound book was forgotten in a limp hand. 

It was a volume about the rise and fall of the dark arts. However, it wasn't the one circulated among what was, in Malfoy's opinion, laughingly called the "Decent" wizarding community. It delved far deeper then any Diagon Ally bought copy. 

It was his fathers, who had pressed it upon his son just this morning, informing his pale skinned son that he'd find it an interesting read. Draco, as his father had predicted, found it fascinating. 

However, he was distracted from it now. The page a pale thin finger bookmarked had been the beginning of the chapter on the fall of the dark arts, starting with Harry Potter's intervention. 

Draco had paused, to muse on his hated foe. Harry would be in that over stuffed horrid little Weasly shack. He'd overhead the scarfaced moron talking about it to one of his equally lame brained Gryffindor friends. 

Draco sneered. He'd probably, in his stupid, blind fashion, think it was wonderful. Harry was indeed an idiot. It was hard to think someone that pathetic had lead to the downfall of the greatest wizard of all time… He absently tossed the book on the floor, a soft thud as it hit the thick, deep emerald carpeting.

Ron was there as well. Stupid Weasly, at the tail end of a family with more children then sense. He folded his arms behind his head and screwed up his nose. What would it be like, living in that horrid little hovel with no room to breath, being poor, getting hand me downs, everything the cheapest they could manage…

"Draco?" His mother poked her head around the door, scowling. Draco sat up; his eyes sliding guiltily top his father's book on the floor.   
"Lights out. You _should_ be in bed by now. Pick your father's book up and get to it. Have you brushed you teeth?

"Yes mother." He said dutifully, repressing the universal sigh over meddlesome parents. 

"Don't take that tone with me, young man.  Pick it up."  
He slid off of the bed and put the book on his side table. Narcissa nodded.

"If you aren't in bed by the time your father or I come to check on you…" The threat lay heavy in the air. His back was turned to the door, so he rolled his eyes

"Yes, mother…" 

The door shut and his mother's footsteps padded down the balcony. He allowed a muttered complaint before slipping into bed, taking his wand from the bedside table and waving the candles out. 

Yet it was a long time before he fell asleep. He heard someone open the door, and caught the moonlight glinting off his father's hair as he checked in on him a scant five minutes later. He sighed irritably after the door had closed, musing for a while on bossy parents, then, as he drifted off, back to how horrible it would be to be in Ron's hand me down shoes…..

Little did either Ron or Draco realize, but by thinking about each other's situations- the very act of imagining themselves in opposing places, no matter how longingly, or contemptuously they did it, they invoked a deep, inner magic...

And no, it's not slash, you naughty people!

So, Chapter one. It's pretty obvious WHAT'S going to happen… but not how it will run it's course… *snicker* I'll pop up the next bit when I get around to writing it…


	2. A wish and a curse

**A wish and a curse**

Disclaimer: I suppose I better do one for this chapter, although it's probably not necessary. The characters aren't mine; neither is the setting or whatnot. The plot is, however. 

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*Prod poke prod prod pinch poke* 

'I'm getting' up…' He brushed sleepily at the person prodding him, missing.

*Poke pinch shake prod* 

'YES, Dobby, I'm getting up….!' He whined, pulling the covers over his head, dismissively, lashing a hand out to knock the persistent house elf away. It took a few seconds for his sleepy mind to grasp the oddity of the situation… Dobby wasn't with them anymore… Stupid, ugly, Potter had set him free… So who was poking him? His father and mother certainly wouldn't stoop to such undignified behavior….

'Dobby?' Came the puzzled voice, muffled through the covers 'Come off it Ron, you're dreaming! Wake up! It's Christmas!' The prodding grew harder

Ron?  He started disentangling himself from beneath blankets… blankets; he froze… blankets that weren't his…

'Oh DO hurry up Ron! There are so many presents to open! Your family's waiting!' 

A girl's voice? That tore it, what the hell was a girl doing n his bedroom? He must be dreaming…. Yet it didn't FEEL like a dream. He threw the covers off angrily, hoping desperately that the dregs of whatever weird dream this was would be gone with the morning light… 

'AAAARGH!' He shrieked and scrabbled backwards to the bed head, bruising his backbone painfully. Harry Potter frowned at him and exchanged a worried look with Hermione.

"Potter! Granger what are you doing in my…' His voice stuck in his throat as he stared around the tiny little, violent orange bedroom. Frog tank, tiny quarters, mess everywhere, cheap, battered floorboards… his face went ashen 

'Where am I?' he managed to whimper, his knuckles white on the blankets. This was definitely not the Malfoy mansion. And it wasn't a dream

Harry muttered something to Hermione and she scampered out as fast as she could run. Harry put a comforting hand on Draco's shoulder 'You're home, Ron- your bed room, and it's Christmas…' he explained in that overly slow voice one uses to a frightened or disturbed child. Draco shoved the hand off his shoulder.

'What have you done, Potter?' He spat, throwing the blankets off, his voice, although trying to sound angry, seemed only a frightened quaver, he swallowed and tried harder 'Don't play stupid with me! What have you and that mudblood Granger do-Ooo... Oh, oh- Oh my God…' He choked, the scant authority he had managed to sum up dying. He'd thrown the covers off completely, uncovering his legs.  Paisley, too short pajamas He was wearing paisley too short pajamas, on legs longer then his own… His hands flew to his face, running over unfamiliar contours, long nose, rounded face, longer hair, and he whimpered breathlessly in panic, dignity totally forgotten 

Harry looked positively baffled. He would have suspected Snape of attending flower arranging classes before he would have expected Ron to call Hermione a "mudblood", not to mention his friend rather sudden attack of hysteria. Harry had no idea what he was supposed to do. 

Thankfully, Mrs. Weasly ran in, with half the Weasly tribe thundering after, Hermione spearheading them. Harry was very, _very _glad Hermione was out of the room for Ron's last speech.

'What on Earth is going on?' Mrs. Weasly asked, staring about the room 'What's this about Ron having nightmares?' Fred and George snickered. Harry shook his head 

'Mrs. Weasly, I- uh, don't think it's a nightmare, he's acting all strange, like he's lost his memory or something, he started yelling at me. It's like he's someone else…' Harry tried to explain, more then glad to get away from the person he had known as Ron

'Of COURSE I'm someone else you foul, scar headed moron! You did this!' He snarled, pointing a shaking finger at the alarmed Harry. Even Ron's expression and gestures were different. 

Mrs. Weasly's face had gone rather blank, a small frown creasing her brow. She went to feel Ron's temperature but he slapped her hand away 

'Don't touch me, woman…' He snarled. Mrs. Weasly looked affronted, then slapped him sharply across the cheek. The pseudo Ron looked shocked 

'You'll do as I tell you in my household!' Mrs. Weasly said in that tone all children know all too well. 'Now who are you and what have you done with my son!' She shrieked at him. He paled even more under his freckles, looking around at the army of Weasly's in the door. 

Draco suddenly realized that none of these degenerates had done this, not even Potter or Granger, their act was just too sincere. If he admitted who he was, well, he knew he was hated by at least four of the people in the room, and Mr. Weasly no doubt dissed his father.  He swallowed hard. He was alone, trapped, frightened, with no idea how he got there, or how to get back. He furiously battled the sudden stinging in his nose, and blinked furiously. Malfoy's DO NOT snivel!

'I-I'm….' He stammered, trying to figure out a way out of this. 'I'm… It's none of your business!' He snapped desperately. Mrs. Weasly didn't look impressed, he shifted out of her slapping range, and hugged his knees 'I just want to go back, you wait until my father finds out, he'll be so mad at you l….' 

'Malfoy…' Harry supplied, eyes suddenly narrowed with hate. 'Draco Malfoy.' Malfoy gave Harry a look full of daggers

'Ah, yes, well, I think I know what's happened.' The bumbling, Muggle loving fool, Arthur Weasly stepped in, around the murderous glares of the rest of the family. 'Tell me, young Malfoy, were you possibly thinking of changing places with Ron last night?' 

Draco grew outraged 'How did you jump to THAT conclusion? Like I'd WANT to live here in this dingy little run down…' 

'I didn't mean' He said, voice raised over Draco's 'That you thought about it in a positive way…'

Draco swallowed, eyes darting to the horrid looks on the faces all around 'Maybe… what's it to you?' he said with false bravado. 

'Yes, well, Ron was just last night wondering what it'd be like to live as you do, and I think…  Well, I wouldn't have thought of it if Ron hadn't been saying just last night…' He shook his head 'I may be wrong, that is, opened a subconscious mental 8whatsydo8 spell…'

'Speak properly, if a foolish Muggle lover like you can' Arthur went a bit pink, while everyone else looked baffled.

'Ah, well, thinking a similar thing at the same time… you and Ron accidentally... uh... Switched bodies… it's a very old spell, I thought it was just a myth, myself…'

Draco sat there mouth open. 'I- he, we… What? It, it can't be… You mean he's in MY body? At MY house?' He spluttered.

'You mean this slimy little git has taken over our brother?' Fred spluttered. Ron's face went red with anger, as Draco, it wouldn't have been visible, but Ron's body… he got to his feet and snatched up Ron's wand, but unanimously everyone in the room leveled his or her own wand at him. 

'Arthur, take them all downstairs. I wish to have a word with Mr. Malfoy…' Molly Weasly looked like a storm cloud. Draco lowered the wand. Looking around desperately at the angry faces. There was no escape. 

'Ah- right- come along lads- ladies…' Arthur started ushering the crowd outside. There were many hostile looks thrown in Draco's direction. Finally, however, the door shut behind them.

Mrs. Weasly rounded on Draco, hands on her hips, face dark enough to make even Malfoy back up a few steps. 

'Now young man, while you're in MY house, in MY son's body, you follow MY rules…'  She scolded shrilly. 'I don't CARE who your father is, I don't care how you've been treated in the past, here you're a Weasly until we can get Ron back. DO you understand?!' 

Draco managed to nod his head and force out a rather breathless, squeaked 'Yes ma'am' looking at his feet, anger, humiliation burning within. 

Mrs. Weasly's attitude changed in the blink of an eye. She put her arm around his shoulder and gave him a one sided hug. 'Now don't worry, we'll sort it all out, okay? You'll be alright.' 

He nodded, feeling decidedly uncomfortable with the peculiarly affectionate behavior. 

'Come on now, let's go downstairs. I won't let the other children pick on you. You didn't want this to happen any more then we did.' She straightened his pajamas 'Now, we can't have you starving on Christmas morning. Come down and have a spot of breakfast. Would you like that, hmm?' 

Draco was thrown. What the hell was this woman on? One minute she's trying to scorch off his eyebrows with her words, and then the next minute she's all hugs and kind words. 

'I'll pop outside and wait; now you get changed- Ron's clothes are in his wardrobe there and that chest of drawers.' He nodded dumbly and she beamed at him. 'Come out when you're dressed dear, we'll have breakfast and sort out what we shall do.' 

With that, she left, shutting the door quietly. 

He stood there for a minute, staring at the door blankly. WHAT the hell was he going to do?! He peered out the window. Too high, and besides, he didn't know where he was or where to go. He sat down on the bed, head in his hands. This was too much. When his father found out… he shook himself and went to the wardrobe. Might as well do as the Weasly woman asked. 

Disgust. The whole thing was made up of threadbare hand me downs. He rifled through the drawers. Nothing, all worn and tatty. 

It took a full quarter of an hour to find something that looked half decent. The knees of the jeans were worn and the black t shirt was faded slightly, but it looked as if it had been in the back of the drawer for several years. Something at least. 

He changed his underwear as quickly as one could, really not willing to know what Ron looked like naked, or what his underwear looked like, then slipped into the outfit he'd chosen, and looked at himself in the cloudy mirror, running a comb through his horrible red Weasly hair.

_'Looking smart today' _the mirror wheezed. Draco sneered, his expression strangely imprinted on Ron's face. 

'You ready dear?' Mrs. Weasly knocked and called through the door. Draco deliberately broke a few comb prongs and dropped it. Close enough. He opened the door roughly, hoping the Weasly woman was behind it. She wasn't. 

'Well, if we hadn't known already you weren't Ron we'd know now.' She said, eyeing his outfit. His eyes narrowed, sensing and insult. She smiled and put a hand on his shoulder. 'Ron's never that neat. Come now. Let's have breakfast.'   
Draco's bare feet cringed against the threadbare carpet and he began to wish he'd worn some shoes; he felt like the ingrained dirt in the carpet was caking his feet. 

Landing after landing- hell, the Malfoy mansion was about the same amount of floors high…

Finally, they arrived in the cluttered kitchen. All eyes turned balefully to him. He affected the most arrogant, contemptuous posture he could and allowed himself to be lead to the table. He was positioned, wisely, between the two senior Weasly's.

'Uh- Draco, lad- just wondering…' He turned to the simpering Arthur Weasly 'Would your father receive a message today? I was thinking perhaps we can get you both together- you and Ron, I mean... and sort it out… perhaps go to the accidental magical reversal department or something… but I need to know whether attempting to contact Lucius would work.' 

'Father would probably reject a summons from the likes of you.' He said honestly, allowing malice to creep into his voice, however, he caught Mrs. Weasly's glare and hastened on 'But if you kept trying- he might… if he knows Ron's taken over my body then he'll probably come to you.' He grinned with satisfaction. His father would positively tear strips from this Muggle loving family…

'Ah- right then. I'll give it a shot- right after breakfast…' Arthur said with a hesitation.

Mrs. Weasly levitated several large pans of various fried good to be poured out on plates.   
  


As Draco sat staring disdainfully at the pile of greasy vegan's nightmare, and the presents sat under the Weasly tree, waiting to be opened, Ron was having a MUCH different time…


	3. Fairy Glamour

**Fairy Glamour**

**Author's note:**

My, my, this is turning out to be a fairly popular fic! So many reviews!! I yield to public pressure and give you installment three of "Be Careful what you wish for" Where Ron discovers his plight…

**Disclaimer: **

Harry Potter, Harry Potter

Books for young and old

The rights to this series

I do not hold

So if you're reading and thinking

You could get the rights off me

You're sadly mistaken

I am extremely sorry

For they belong to JK Rowling

An author of great talent

And to buy the rights off her

A great amount must be spent…

And thus this disclaimer disclaims

And here this poem ends

Continue on and read the fic

Enjoy it all, my friends.

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Weird… 

Ron rolled over in bed- or at least he thought he did. He was in a huge, deep, fluffy, warm bed-

So he was obviously dreaming

And that's what was weird- he was dreaming about sleeping, and who'd ever heard of that? I mean, he dreamt about many things- about falling, about running away, about making Harry sing an opera in polka dot knickerbockers with a cheese platter on his head, about girls… But never about sleeping.

And what was more, he felt awake… He could feel the sheets, the blankets, catch the smell... They smelt sort of familiar- they smelt... like… someone's house- that pervading odor you get when not in your own house- that smell that clung to people. This smell was familiar, it raised his hackles, it smelt like…

Draco?

He had to be dreaming, but as pleasant as the nice comfortable sanctum was he forced himself awake. There was something unnerving about dreaming about being in Draco's bed.  

He knuckled his eyes, kicking at the blankets and sitting up, blinking blearily.

The room was huge- so was the bed. The dresser, the wardrobe, the desk, the shelves and even the drawers were carved magnificently out of some rich, dark wood. Ron ran his hand along the bedside table, astounded. What sort of sorcery was this? It was like a palace. As he stared around in open mouthed wonder, his hand fell on a small, leather bound book on the side table he was so absently caressing. He frowned into the semi light, and fumbled for a wand, poking the bedside lamp on with it to illuminate the gold letters pressed into the cover

"The rise and fall of the Dark arts" 

A schoolbook- he had this at home, a much more battered copy… That thought jerked his attention away again. Home? Where WAS he?  He looked up from the book and upwards at the echoing, high cathedral ceilings, a small, silver many branched candelabra hung like a glistening chandelier, the white candles dead. 

He grinned suddenly- this was no dream… he could all to well see, hear and smell- he was too alert. What sort of magic had dropped him into this luxury? He swung his feet over the side of the bed.  Black green satin pajama pants met his eyes- he ran his hands over his knees, astounded- dressed richly as the room! WHAT a Christmas wish! He wriggled his toes in the thick deep emerald coloured carpets, and laughed to himself. What were Harry and Hermione going to say! He beamed at the thought of their jealous faces- why, everything he saw was luxurious! He flipped through the book, thrilling in the thick parchment pages, and glorious ink capitals- Hell, if this was a SCHOOLBOOK, what would the other books be like? What would… 

His eyes fell on a word. He went cold.

"Voldermort" 

Spelt out plain and clear- no book he had did that… He read on, the cold creeping up his limbs, luxury dimming in a fog, his surroundings shrinking as vanishing, the words on the page burning into his mind

"…Voldermort, in his great wisdom, then commenced a purging of the wizarding community that had never been seen before- for the first time in history, the half-breeds that had slowly been allowed to grow unchecked in our community- mudbloods, as the popular term goes, went through a thorough extermination. So great and wondrous the work of the Dark lord, that very few of these unwanted half breeds escaped his net."

Ron dropped the book quickly, as if it had burned his hands- and he stared at it in disgust. What was this? This little mar on this perfect Christmas gift? 

Just then, the door opened, Ron leapt about a foot and turned to face it, heart pounding. The book had unnerved him. 

He half expected to see his mother, or siblings to come running in, in wonder of their new surrounds. But no- as if reading those horrid lines in the book had opened some Pandora's Box on a nightmare, the very last person he expected or wanted strode in. 

"Ah- Draco, I was just coming in to wake you- your mother and I have been up for some hours now- it is unusual for you to sleep so late in Christmas morning." Lucius said coldly, starting pointedly at the window, which was blocked off by thick deep green curtains. 

Ron however, was riveted to the spot, his mouth hanging open.  His throat was dry, and his hands started shaking. Lucius Malfoy… Lucius… he though Ron... Ron was... his _son_? Draco? Lucius looked coldly at him, frowning at his lack of movement

"Don't sit there like a dolt, boy- open the curtains. Let some light in here."   
Ron moved as if the life in him had been switched back on- his mind racing. The pale thin hands that shoved the curtains aside were certainly not his own. He obviously looked like Draco, or Lucius would have positively skinned him by now. And if Mr. Malfoy got a wind he had somehow, by some strange… nightmare- some evil magic- taken over his son's body… His stomach turned to lead.  He didn't doubt this evil family had some incredibly painful way of getting rid of him. And where was Draco? Imprisoned in this body somewhere as well? In Ron's own body, back at home?

His thoughts were interrupted by the heavy thwack of the snake head atop Lucius' cane on his shoulder. He fought the urge to both cry out and grab the wrist that held the cane as painfully as possible

 "Did I not TELL you to take care of this book?" Mr. Malfoy said coldly, his voice like a chip of ice to Ron's stomach. He was holding up the loathsome volume Ron had dropped "Did I not lend it to you on the condition you took care of it? And where do I find it? On the floor." His chin was wrenched around and he looked into a pair of very cold grey eyes "Do not let me catch you disregarding my orders again, Draco. You know what happens when I'm forced to take action."

Ron wondered with a suppressed shudder what that meant, but he nodded anyway, as much as one could with a vice like grip on your chin.

"Really, I don't know what's come over you boy. I haven't had to reprimand you for a slip up like this for almost a year- and here I was thinking you had progressed." He stared into Ron's eyes, and Ron began to get a creepy feeling Mr. Malfoy could see him hiding behind his son's eyes. However, he let go with a little toss and started walking out, laying the book on the dresser.   
"Attire yourself well, Draco- the family will be here in a few hours- I suggest the sable lined cloak- we may hold Christmas lunch in the sunroom- and it shall be a little colder- as you know."

He swept from the room and left. 

Ron rubbed his chin. This was going to be difficult to pull off. He sank to the side of the bed, trembling uncontrollably. Somehow, some weird, freaky how, he was Draco- or at least looked like him, he was trapped in this mansion with Draco's evil family and no idea how he'd got here. He rubbed his forearms, swallowing hard. He remembered in a distant echo how that very last night he'd been picturing Christmas here in the Malfoy mansion- but that had been a sort of joke, something that could never happen. 

"But it has happened Ron, and just think- you get that wish after all, all you have to do is play along." He suddenly grinned. A rich meal, expensive gifts… a huge house… maybe this wasn't so bad after all! He stood up, full of new resolve.

He went to the wardrobe and threw it open. Then stopped, aghast. Rows upon rows of clothing, all as rich and luxurious as the last, all black and dark in colour. WHAT was he supposed to choose? Well, sable cloak, Lucius had mentioned a sable cloak. He walked from one end to the other- and found, about the middle, where all the cloaks hung. Seven in total, and they were only the fur lined ones. Now sable…. Sable was black… three of the seven had black fur, all different, so which one was sable?

He took out all three and neatened the bedspread, putting them on top. Now, to find an outfit- casual formal, he thought. 

Looking through the wardrobe was rather enjoyable, there were coats and cloaks, shirts, robes… it was great fun. However, it wasn't helping. He went to the drawers and pulled them out one by one- the underwear draw was shut quickly  
"Like I wanna see Draco's jocks…" Ron muttered, pulling the next one out. "What the hell are you going to do, Ron Weasly- This stuff all looks formal- look at the git's jeans- look like they've never been worn." He sighed and rested his head on his hands, which were crossed on the drawer open in front.   
"Haven't decided? We've been waiting!"  
Ron looked up at Narcissa Malfoy, who was standing in the door with a decidedly annoyed look on her face She had slipped in so quietly. With a pursed lip and a scowl, she grabbed one of the cloaks, most likely the one Ron wanted.   
"Put the others back- what else have you picked out? Really! You should be long dressed by now!" She rifled through the wardrobe and draws, throwing random things on the bed, before she whirled on him, about to say something. Her eyes narrowed as the reprimand died on her lips. She grabbed his chin in much the same way as Lucius had

"You're not yourself." She moved his face this way and that, her eyes searching. Ron felt his stomach lurch. Her cold hand went to his forehead and her eyes bore into his. He tried to look blank, but his heart was in his throat. 

After what seemed like an eternity, she let go, her eyes narrowed, her lips pursed. 

"You'll probably need a tonic- I DID tell you not to go around the marble floors in bare feet, but you WILL insist. Now get dressed and join us in the lounge." She snapped and shut one of the wardrobe doors with a disdainful push, and left. 

The eye of the storm, Ron thought miserably. HOW was he going to pull this off?  The resolve of earlier died in his breast. Already both Malfoy parents had sensed something wrong. HE didn't know al the things that evil little Malfoy knew- what happened if the family asked questions?   
He wandered sadly up to a mirror and pawed at the face he saw in the reflection, pale and pointed, the hair actually slightly out of place for a change. He could see where the Malfoy's thought him ill, his face was a little paler then he was used to seeing on Draco, and the expression totally out of place. It was fascinating...  his expression was printed there, like the two of them had melded. He tore his eyes away quickly, not wanting to see anymore.

He then started to dress, hoping for a distraction in clothing. Trouser on very quickly and with great difficulty seeing it was hard to do this with closed eyes- he really didn't want the image of Draco in the buff seared into his memory. However, after he put on the silvery black shirt, he lingered a little; the clothes were so _fine, _so _luxurious. _The coat was thick and soft, old, beautifully cut, long and lined with deep green- the black gloves were leather, and so very rich and warm, lined on the cuffs with silvery fur, the sable cloak has a solid silver clasp, he admired the effect in the mirror, picturing himself instead of Draco in the outfit. 

But the dream slowly faded and the horror of the situation sunk in. He was alone, in his hated enemy's body, in his house with a brood of dark wizards and no idea how to act. He slung the other wardrobe door shut.  
"Well Ron Weasly, only one thing to do- keep going… And get out of here as soon as I can…"  
He promised himself, straightening up. Playing the part of Draco shouldn't be hard- all he had to do was act slimy and arrogant… He threw open the bedroom door and was faced with a long, carpeted balcony, doors along the side and two staircases, a grand floor below.

"Bloody hell… where's the Lounge?!" He said, looking one way, then the next….

And so we leave Ron for this installment. Tune in next chapter, sports fans, to find out how Draco is doing, surrounded by Weaslys who hate his guts and in a house he'd rather eat a month old kitchen sponge then spend time in.


	4. In Another World

**In Another World, Under another sky**

Disclaimer: Srehtorb Renraw dna Gnilwor .K.J ot gnoleb yeht, enim t'nera dedulcni sretcarahc lla dna Rrttop Yrrah

Acknowledgement: The title of this fic was taken from a song by the name "Another world" from the same named album by the guitarist of the prestigious band, "Queen" it's part of his solo work. Have a listen to the album, if you get a chance… I thought it a rather fitting title…

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This whole ordeal was decidedly unpleasant, Hermione decided, as she watched the pseudo-Ron from her comfy worn arm chair. She rested her chin in her folded arms, lips pursed speculatively. Even though Draco put the veneer of arrogant disgust on, and kept his attitude of superiority, the truth was obvious. He was scared.   
Hermione knew it was a little perverse, but she was enjoying his suffering. Sure, it didn't make up for his presence, but she counted her blessing where she found them. 

Actually, it was that fear that had her staring intently at him. Over the past hour or so, an idea had formed in her mind. It was cruel, possibly a little dangerous, and all together rather heartless, but an idea all the same. People, when thrown into a situation they're totally not prepared for tended to freeze up, their normal, day to day "mask" they wore would fall clattering to the floor, leaving the real person behind it exposed as they frantically tried to both pick it up and defend themselves. 

Draco had always swaggered around, using his overwhelming arrogance and slimy haughtiness as a sort of protective layer. As she had noted before, that veneer had slipped and the idea began to grow… maybe this was a chance to know what Malfoy was really like… She grinned maliciously, each and every fault- she'd know where they all were… she'd know his every weakness, if she played this right, of course. But she was a bright girl, and Draco, in his tense state, was practically handing her the answers. Revenge loomed large in her mind, and she basked happily in its glow

Draco was nervous… He hated it here, and wished more then anything to be back in his nice CLEAN manor. The Weasly house reeked of a domesticity he was totally unprepared for. The dishes were being scrubbed by a very industrious scrubbing brush. He'd never seen dishes washed before… There were clothes piles on the floor where Mrs. Weasly had sorted them which cried out if anyone stood on them by mistake. His clothes were always put away for him. There was clutter and dust everywhere, where the manor was immaculate. He hated it here…

He was, however, more then a little apprehensive about what his father would think about the whole affair. He idolized his father, and the idea of him being disappointed pained him greatly… He'd probably get a well deserved thrashing- it was, after all, partly his fault… he narrowed his eyes thoughtfully… maybe he'd get off with a good telling off instead. There was always room for hope. He thought hard… if he talked fast enough, he might even be able to make it look like Weasly's fault. That'd be perfect…  His father would bring the heavy hand of the ministry down on this scummy little muggle worshipping family, Potter, Granger and all…

And what WAS she looking at? His eyes met hers, full of hate. She returned the daggered look, How DARE she? Stupid mudblood… if he wasn't surrounded by Weasly's he'd say something. He looked away irritably

Hermione grinned to herself. She'd stared him down. She planned to watch the little rich boy rather carefully through this ordeal. Already his eyes flickered in thought, darting from one thing to another about the house; she was sorely tempted to shout "BOO!" just to see him jump a mile, but she knew Mrs. Weasly would be disappointed. 

Arthur Weasly came in looking a little harried and stressed. Draco suppressed a grin at the sight.

"No luck I'm afraid…" he announced to the room in general. The smirk that was hovering on the edge of Draco's lips died "Mr. Malfoy won't see me; I don't even think the fellow answering the summons is even passing word on at all…"  
"That'd be Kesley." Draco said derisively. Kesley was one of their domestics; he served as a sort of butler secretary cross. After Draco got out of this horrid, gangly, freckly body, Kesley would be looking for another job… 

"I didn't catch the name." The head Weasly said, flopping into a chair. "I'll try again later, if I still can't get hold of him, I might have to go to the ministry. Would your father answer a call from there?" He asked, passing a hand over his eyes. Mrs. Weasly brought him a cup of warm eggnog.   
"Most definitely, if it was from a ministry wizard high up enough…" He said that as insultingly as possible. Mrs. Weasly's expression hardened, but she remained silent; Draco drew back a little from that heated glare.

Ho ho... What was this? He submitted rather quickly to Mrs. Weasly's simple glare….  Why was this? He treated Mr. Weasly with scarcely concealed contempt… The wheels in her head clacked around.

Mrs. Weasly straightened, eyes hard

"I have a perfectly excellent idea… I need the back garden cleared of Frost jacks; they're making a positive mess out there. Christmas isn't a day to be cooped up in side, moping. Harry, Hermione, Draco… "  
He stared at her uncomprehendingly. Looking around, he was relieved to see he wasn't the only one, both Harry and Hermione looked perplexed, he drew himself up and masked the confused look, trying to look as if he already knew it all. What the hell was a frost jack?

"Oh, look, Bill, would you show them? Get your coats, dears, Draco? Ron's is the maroon one…" She started ushering them out towards the back door as Bill unwound himself from the chair he'd been sitting on, and followed them.

Draco reluctantly took the tatty coat from the peg. He was about to rather loudly proclaim that he would NOT wear this tatty rag, but the searing look from Molly Weasly killed that. He muttered irritably as he pulled the horrid thing on.

"Right!" Bill clapped his gloved hands as they stood in the snow covered back yard. "Frost jacks are nasty little critters that like digging up Mum's garden and eating the roots of her plants- she gets awfully grumpy about that." He grinned at them toothily  
"They're pretty small… about the size of your palm, but if they bite you, you'll know about it. They only come out in winter; 'cause they hibernate for the rest of the year." He looked around the garden, breath steaming in the cold air, looking for something, after a few seconds he grinned and strode over to a low Gorse bush, crouching down and beckoning them over, and pointing to a smallish hole in the frost hardened ground. The brown earth mixed with the white snow.

"This is a Frost jack burrow; he'll be nibbling on roots right now." He pointed his wand down the hole and sent a flurry of little blue sparks down there. A little creature, totally white with enormous black eyes came scurrying out squeaking angrily. Quickly he grabbed it and dropped it in a bucket he'd brought with him. 

"Dad doesn't like us killing anything, that's why you have buckets. They can't get out of them- after we've finished, we'll drop them in that grove, there's plenty for them to eat there." He pointed to a dark smudge of tress nearby over the back fence. He looked up at them  
"Got it?"

Hermione nodded, eager to try it out, but she heard Draco stand up. The look of arrogant disgust on his face looked weird imprinted on Ron's usually open and friendly features.

"This is servant stuff…" he complained "I'm not doing menial work!" He folded his arms, his eyes challenging. Bill rolled his eyes at Harry and Hermione, and she and Harry exchanged amused glances. Bill got to his feet. Although Ron was tall and lanky, he still wasn't as tall as Bill. 

"You'll do what I say, Malfoy, or I'll call Mum out here and she'll MAKE you do it." He said, not completely hiding the faint amusement that hovered on the edge of his authorative tone. Draco's expression, or should we say Ron's, hardened and he snatched up his bucket and stalked to the other side of the garden.   
Interesting. Draco never yielded to anything less then a detention threat at Hogwarts, unless he could get someone else in trouble or use the situation to his advantage. Hermione moved to a rather dispirited looking rhododendron, kneeling down at a frost jack hole, her mind carefully ticking over as she thought about it.  A slow smile crept up on her face. If she played it right, she may have found an effective weapon against the pale faced bully of Hogwarts…

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Note- this fiction, as I said at the start, will NOT be a slash- Hermione is watching Draco for the reasons stated, she hates him she wants to learn weakness' to use against him later. And that's t. No romance brewing, no other motives, just children behaving like children  


	5. Skin Deep

**Beauty is Only Skin Deep**

Disclaimer: It's not mine. 

Ooo- Deep meaningful title! 

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It was a labyrinth. Passages and cathedral ceiling halls, rooms and cold marble. Ron was getting more and more panicked by the second. Where WAS the lounge? What would they do to him if he didn't turn up in time? Briefly he reminded himself that he LOOKED like their son, but somehow, the ice in the eyes and touch of Lucius Malfoy and his steely wife suggested event that wouldn't stop them if they felt he needed to be punished, and he had a sneaking suspicion tardiness annoyed them enough to be a punishable offence 

He peeped into room after room, some bedrooms, some bathrooms or studies, sitting rooms. He was trembling slightly. None of them looked like a lounge at all… oh what was he going to DO?  
His panic vanished however, when he discovered something that stopped it cold.   
The master bedroom was huge, bigger then Draco's own. Ron's curiosity burned, and after a quick look over his shoulder, he slipped in, shutting the door behind him. What manner of secrets would Lucius and Narcissa's own sleeping chambers hold?  A bedroom was the best place to hide something…

Where to begin? The room was the same colours as the other rooms, dark green carpeting, stark walls, and dark furniture; there was a heavy huge bed in the centre, rich coverings of a similar dark green to the carpeting. Ron suppressed a grin and fought the childish urge to jump on the bed…

He tiptoed about, opening a wardrobe, and peering in, eyes wide as saucers at the amount of clothing. Satins, velvets, brocade… Ron was sure most of the stuff would cost more then his whole family had combined. He fingered a very thick fur cloak and shut the door quietly, looking around for more to poke his nose in.   
A bedside table revealed a very shiny, rather evil looking dagger. Ron brought it closer, trying to make out a thin engraving near the blade edge, there seemed to be black ink rubbed into it to make it more legible, when it was inches from his nose, he dropped it with a curse, realizing the black in was really ink at all, but dried blood.   
He picked it up and hastily shoved it back into the draw with a shudder of revulsion. What sort of family was this? He knew they were evil, but…

He pushed open a door at the far side of the room, shaking a little, the question what would they do to HIM if they found out raced about his head, the dagger's bloody secret suggesting horrible pictures of racks and hot irons in his head.   
The door led into an ensuite. His mouth dropped open, tortures forgotten. The bathtub was like a small pool, everything was clad in white marble and the towels were large, thick and dark green. The basin had a curved silver snake head as the tap. Even the toilet looked luxurious.   
He backed out slowly, goggling.   
Seeing he was backing out, he of course didn't notice Lucius right behind him until he slammed into him. 

Ron made a strangled noise and spun around, facing the towering Malfoy senior. Lucius was looking at him with an extremely cold expression; and Ron began to tremble, thinking fast. HOW would he explain this? 

"We've been looking for you, Draco- WHAT; may I ask are you doing in here?" 

The question hung like a threat. Ron swallowed a couple of times, a few alternatives popping to mind. However, the silence it's self suggested a reason… 

"L-looking for you…" He said, trying to make his voice a little vague "I thought you were her.. Or maybe not…" He looked about, trying to flatten his expression. Lucius frowned slightly, hooking a finger under Ron's chin and forcing his head upwards. Ron noted Lucius skin was very cold. 

Ron wanted to look away, but Malfoy's eyes pinned him effectively. He felt himself begin to tremble. His father had always said the Malfoy's were corrupt, but the heart of someone's soul lies in their eyes, and the frosty grey eyes that pinned Ron made his realize with a sickening lurch the full extent of the Malfoy's depravity. He wanted to run. 

"Are you feeling well, boy?" he asked finally. Ron licked his lips, and shook his head as much as Lucius' grip would allow.   
"A little light headed, I didn't think anything of it. I can handle it though." He said, trying to sound both arrogant and disjointed at the same time. He was now convinced his life hung with however well he acted. Lucius raised an eyebrow but let it lie, turning on heel and sweeping from the room.

"Come Draco. Your mother might want to see to this. I am no expert in illness." 

Ron followed meekly, the little relief at being found and led combated with the fear of what might happen to him next.   
They went down the main staircase and across the entrance hall, through a door to a huge room lit by a fireplace a little shorter then Ron's (Draco's) head, couches and divans were scattered about and a deep silvery white rug was in the centre of the room. Paintings of witches and wizards were everywhere, all baring the Malfoy resemblance. Although not all of them had the pale hair, grey eyed fair skinned look, the majority did, and none held even a twinkle of humanity in their eyes. 

Narcissa was, in fact very beautiful. She was fair and her features were stunning. Her expression was not, and if it were possible, he felt as if she would flay him with looks alone. 

"You found him." She stated, looking disdainful. Her gown was deep green, they all seemed to have a preference for that colour…

"In our bedroom." Lucius said, shoving Ron forward towards Narcissa. The woman raised a eyebrow, her mouth pursing speculatively.   
"I believe he is unwell. He has not been behaving normally since this morning." Mr. Malfoy explained, settling down negligently in an armchair

"I noticed that myself." Narcissa said, he expression softening a little. "Come here." She ordered Ron, pointing just in front of her. He tried to imitate the arrogant swagger Draco had, and placed himself in front of her, looking about pretending to be a little bemused. 

Narcissa's hand was no warmer then her husbands. She felt Ron's temperature, and looked at his face, turning his head this way and that. Finally she let him go.

"I haven't an idea." She said with a slight twist of her lips. "There's something wrong- probably a minor bug. We shall get the family doctor tomorrow." She looked penetratingly at him, and Ron nodded and shrugged  
"If you want. I don't think it's that much…" His protest died away with one look.  
  


There was light conversation between Narcissa and Lucius. Draco studied the pair. There was a barrier between them… Or more so, a barrier they both carried of their own that was not let down even for each other, or, Ron noted, their son. Ron remembered his father's warning about the Malfoy's, and now began to realize what it meant. The place was luxury incarnate, but the people turned what might have been stunning into something sinister. He wondered if they had ever even hugged. That brought him to the realization Draco had to be made SOMEHOW… He squeezed his eyes shut at the mental image that the thought created. He amused himself thereafter inventing ways Draco could have come about… he could have crawled from under a rock… or maybe the Malfoy's transfigured a ferret when they decided they wanted a son… 

Breakfast was announced by a stodgy looking butler. Ron's stomach growled in response to the smells coming from the room the butler had come from.   
"Come Draco." Lucius ordered, getting up and sweeping towards the dining hall. Ron hurried after, breathing in the smells, mouth watering.   
The dining hall was no less grand then the other rooms, Candelabras sprouting glittering candles sat along the table- a table long enough to seat many, many people. There were three plates set up under silver covers at one end and the delicious smells emanated from them. Lucius and Narcissa took their seats, Lucius at the head of the table, Narcissa to his right. The last plate was on his left.

Ron climbed up into the seat and uncovered the plate.   
Gourmet sausages, lightly spiced, something involving bacon and a few other bits rolled up, thick white bread lightly warmed with melted butter, two poached eggs with a light seasoned sauce and a small wedge of rich, creamy cheese. Ron tried not to gape. THIS was breakfast? 

The serving ware was silver. The goblets were silver and glass. No Pumpkin juice here, but fragrant hot spiced wine, daintily folded napkins in silver rings, pale scented flowers in wrought vases decorated the table.   
Ron watched his father and mother for the day, trying not to do anything wrong. They spread a napkin on their laps, he followed suit.   
Something's were eaten with different implements, but he mimicked them, delighting in the rich breakfast. Take that, greasy sausage bacon eggs and burnt toast! Everything was bursting with flavor, and the wine made him a little giddy. Was this what they ate every breakfast? 

"Adequate." Lucius said, dabbing his mouth with the napkin and placing it on his tray. The serving girl who had come to take their dishes beamed at the comment as if it were a great compliment. Ron caught himself on the verge of thanking the girl as she took his dishes, Draco wouldn't thank anyone.   
  
They sat there for a little time, again, the forced idle chatter, about work, home, and people. Ron began to realize where Draco's love for insulting people stemmed from.   
"Fools, all of them." He sneered, when Narcissa had asked what the department of mysteries had been doing of late. "Wasting their time. Everyone's obsessively focused n flushing out dark wizards; they've forgotten the important business. They're passing inquiry after inquiry when there should be more done in other areas. They have questioned me twice." He looked disgusted. Ron brought up the nerve to join the conversation, still worried they thought he wasn't their son...   
"They dared do that?!" He pretended to sound shocked "I didn't think they'd have that much influence." 

Lucius smiled at his son, but there was no warmth in the smile. "I didn't believe it myself. I sent Fudge a rather acid owl about that. He was almost falling over himself to apologies. The blundering fool…" 

Any chance of furthering the conversation was cut off by the arrival of another butler. The man came in and announced in an urbane and totally unemotional voice…

"The Malfoy's of Ireland and the Kilcutley's have arrived, sir." 

Lucius stood, and Narcissa followed. Ron's stomach filled with lead. He was about to meet Draco's relations….

_I'm sorry about the time it's taken for each chapter, I'm trying to hurry it up ;) I've been totally slack of late but I'm trying to fix that. I have three fics going at the moment and heaps in the works, but I'll finish the three up now before I start anything new.   
Hope you're all enjoying it…  _


	6. Cooking and Crackers

**Cooking and crackers**

Disclaimer: I confess! It's mine! I did it! I wrote it ALL! ALL I TELL YOU! AHAHAHAHAHAHA... MIIIIIIIIIIIIIINE!

St. Mungo's hospital for magical maladies would like to state that the above disclaimer is fictitious, and the author has been taken away for proper treatment. 

Author's note: I read number five, finally. Well, I must say I have mixed feelings on it *sniffs* it's not BAD, but, by the Gods, I want to strangle Harry… Since when did he become a whining little prat? Oh… hang on…  

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"Hold still…" 

Mrs. Weasley held his thin wrist tightly, wrapping a small bandage soaked in Salamander oil around it. Draco winced again as she pulled it tight

"Bill- Didn't I tell you to watch them? Didn't I tell you to show them how it was done?" She scolded, sealing the bandage with a wave of her wand "There you go dear." She said to Draco, patting him gingerly on the arm, and beckoning Hermione over. "All better, it should only take a day or two to heal…" 

Draco slumped down in a chair and watched Mrs. Weasley bandage Hermione sulkily. The little Jack Frost's they had been clearing out of the garden had been far more vicious then any of them had thought. They had struggled, squealed and bit. Their sharp little teeth left tiny puncture wounds almost unnoticeable. However, they had venom that slowly froze your hand. 

"Frost bite, Bill…." Mrs. Weasley took up her scolding again "You let them all get frost bite…" She sealed Hermione's bandage with a flick of her wand and turned to her casually lounging son like an angry wolverine "You should have been watching them! But what were you doing instead? Sitting back writing letters to your friends in Egypt! It wouldn't've taken TOO much time for you to drag yourself from your personal correspondence to keep a good eye on them, would it?"

Bill was nodding occasionally, absently whittling at a potato, the peelings dropping into the bowl. He was lounged sideways on the seat, one leg over the arm. Occasionally he made a sort of grunted affirmation. 

Draco glared about the room, tuning off the scolding. His hand was freezing, but he Salamander oil was slowly taking that away. His best compensation was that both Harry and Hermione had ALSO gotten bitten. 

That thought brought him back to the present. He looked around at them. Harry was studying a clock on the wall with little pictures on the hands, stating where each Weasley was.  Draco's family had one of them, but it had a few extra words people like the Weasley's'd never have. At least, the one hidden in his father's study did. "At the Dark Lord's side" situated where twelve would be, and others like "Highly important meeting". Draco scowled a little. Ron's hand was clearly sitting on the word "Visiting". As if his family would EVER welcome that freckle faced little mudblood loving fool. 

He looked away sharply when Harry turned to face him, annoyed with himself for staring.    
He felt eyes on him and turned to face Hermione, who was watching him with a strangely intent expression, it made him nervous, for some reason. 

"What?' He asked petulantly

"Nothing" She replied, just as petulantly

He let it drop, looking away from her and around the kitchen instead. The rest of the Weasleys, bar the twins, were helping make Christmas dinner. Mrs. Weasley hadn't felt it safe, to let her twin miscreant sons near the food. He watched them for a full minute, wondering how they ever got on without servants before Mrs. Weasley, evidently finished her tirade against Bill, clapped her hands together, bringing all the attention back to her

"Alright kiddies…" Draco flared at the word 'kiddies' "frosty hands or no, you're all going to give us a hand in the kitchen. With all the fiasco of our- spontaneous guest…"   
"I never PLANNED to come here, I assure you…" Draco snapped. Mrs. Weasley glared him silent  

"As I was saying, with all the fiasco this morning, I haven't been able to do as much as I usually do for Christmas dinner. So I need a hand- well, I need as many hands as I can get."

Hermione and Harry nodded, getting to their feet. Draco remained stony and seated

"Harry dear, would you go over to the bench over there and you'll find some mini pie bottoms and a bowl of fruit mince. Spoon a little bit in the pastry, cut a circle with this cutter and seal the top of each mince pie. Jab it with a fork in the top, as well dear…"  
She handed him a crinkly edged cutter, and ushered him to the pies. 

"Hermione, I'm sure you know how to peel and cut vegetables?"

"Yes Mrs. Weasley, I have just the charm for that…" She replied taking a breath, obviously about to tell them all what it was. Draco rolled his eyes, but Mrs. Weasley cut in.

"Excellent dear. They're over there on the chopping board and the knives are in the draw, just pop them in that square pan when you're finished, okay, dear?"  
Hermione nodded, and scurried over tot eh draw, taking out a knife and carefully going to the vegetables.  
"And Draco dear, you can help me make the stuffing…" 

He was a little panicked. Him? Cook? He'd never touched a pot or pan in his life. He wouldn't know where to start.   
"I'm not cooking…" he said a little defiantly

"Of course you're not dear; I don't expect you've had much practice, that's why you're helping me…." She said firmly. He bristled a bit 

"What do you mean, 'haven't had…'"

"Well, I've never thought your family, in that big house of yours, would do their own cooking…" There was something peculiar in her voice… disapproval? "Didn't you have a house elf for awhile dear?"   
His eyes burned and he shot a filthy look at Harry, who looked up at him without a changed expression, eyes challenging.

"For awhile yes…" he grated, about to elaborate, but Mrs. Weasley, sensing danger, stepped in and dragged him towards a big bowl 

"Now where do we start?" She asked, pointing her wand to the pantry. He ducked several different flying ingredients, looking at the big bowl in chagrin. His day was getting worse and worse….

It didn't turn out half as bad as he expected. He finished the stuffing and had moved on to cutting a little salad. Mrs. Weasley had drawn him out with many questions, and after finding out his best subject was potions, she set him on making sauces, which were all quite successful. 

"Excellent… excellent!" she said, looking at the last pot of butterscotch sauce he had just finished. "I think you can all go sit down now- I can finish up. I think Arthur's put out some crackers, so go play with them. I'll call you all when it's ready…"

He was somewhat pleased with himself for the sauces. It took him a full minute and a half to tell himself that he really shouldn't be, it was only stupid sauce. 

He flopped into a nearby seat, glancing at the clock that told the time, on the opposite wall to the family whereabouts clock. Eleven. His family would be arriving about now. He wondered how Ron would cope with his extended family… 

His reverie was cut short by Ginny Weasley, who shook the end of a cracker at him. He looked faintly surprised, not thinking that anyone'd want anything to do with him (which suited him fine, mind you…) and true, Ginny looked slightly pained. He took hold of one end and tugged, still a little bemused. A huge cannon shot and a plume of blue smoke. Thankfully Ginny had gotten the bigger end, with a large, floppy Rasta hat and a little silvery trumpet that made different animal noises when you blew it, and emitted multi coloured bubbles.  

He sank back in his chair, wishing he could sit outside or something.   
"So, Draco…" It was one of the older Weasleys. He couldn't remember his name. He was thick set and had freckles so close together it was almost a tan "I hear your Dad works for the Ministry."

Draco nodded, not really wanting to be brought into conversation. 

"Yeah, hear Dad talking about him a lot. Lucius Malfoy, isn't it?"   
Draco nodded again, wondering darkly what Mr. Weasley had said. 

"Yeah, heard a lot about him. Didn't he used to be a school Governor?"

Draco really didn't like the way the conversation was going  
"Got kicked out for blackmail or something" One of the twins piped up, wearing a rather peculiar neon green and orange tam-o-shanter with a purple bobble. "Threatening the other governors, trying to get them to chuck Dumbledore out..."

"Yeah, wasn't it your Dad that gave Ginny that diary that turned her into some raving loony that set that dirty great snake on people?" The other twin asked, grinning.  Ginny stopped blowing her animal noise trumpet.   

"And didn't he get attacked by Dobby the nutty house elf after? When he tried to attack Harry for setting Dobby free?" The Tam-O-Shanter'd twin laughed gleefully. Draco's face felt hot, his fists were clenched. 

"Oh that's right George…" The bare headed twin continued "Didn't he also embarrass himself majorly when the Hippogriff he was trying to get killed escaped under his nose?"

"The one that mauled you, cause you're too much of an upper-class little snot to bother listening to instructions?" George laughed, falling back in his chair. Draco's hands clenched about the arms of his chair, grinding his teeth in irritation. 

"yeah, and wasn't he…"   
Draco leapt up and grabbed Fred's collar, drawing back his fist to punch him  
"don't you DARE insult my father!" He yelled, furious. A heavy pair of hands grabbed him and wrenched him back, no matter how hard he fought. 

Mrs. Weasley stormed into the room wearing a floral apron and a scowl, carrying a dripping wooden spoon 

"What's all this?" She said, her voice shrill.   
"THEY'RE INSULTING MY FATHER!" He yelled, still trying to have a go at the sniggering twins. 

"Well really, Fred, George! WHAT did your father tell you! You're NOT to annoy young Draco here! It's enough of a shock that he has to spend Christmas here in the first place…"

"You can't blame him for being so touchy about his family, I suppose…" George conceded, looking serious. A little TOO serious. "I mean, LOOK at them… I'D be cranky all the time if I had a father like THAT vile, snobby, arrogant b…"   
"GEROGE!" Mrs. Weasly shrieked, as Draco snarled and tried to break the grip holding him back again. He felt someone else's hands join the ones already holding him back. Mrs. Weasly took a few deep breaths.  
"Your dinner's ready. All of you. Get in there. And if I hear that you've been teasing young Malfoy AGAIN, Fred, George, you won't know what hit you. Now- I've set up some tables outside, and put a hothouse bubble over them to keep off the snow. It might get a little humid, but it was the best I could do. Now outside."   
She pointed outside with her spoon, and the twins scurried outside, shooting amused looks that the still fuming Draco. 

Bill and Charlie let him go slowly, as Harry and Hermione, both looking also amused passed.   
He stomped outside, wanting to break something. They better get onto his family soon… the sooner he was out of here, the better. 


	7. The nightmare before chistmas

**The nightmare before Christmas**

Disclaimer: I'm REALLY not the owner. 

Authors note: I'm so pathetically slow at these :S I had a reason this time! The computer's been down for weeks, seeing a friend of mine moved into the computer room, so I really haven't been able to get NEAR it! But here it is folks, and were getting toward the end too! Hold on… I might even get the next chapter done… SOON! 

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Avoiding them was impossible, and Ron was a nervous wreck.  

He'd dodged Aunts, second cousins; Nieces, nephews twelve times removed all morning, and was exhausted by it. Loud noises made him jump and every eye seemed to be on him

  
The Malfoy family was beyond creepy. It was beyond vile. Ron felt physically sick as his stomach performed triple somersaults every time a cold eyed relative glanced in his direction.

They seemed to all be off the same block of ice. There was no telling who was related on what side, Narcissa or Lucius. They all seemed to be the same… Ron amused himself for a second with the thought of them all being inbreeders.

However, his momentary amusement fast fell away as a tall, very annoyed looking girl strode over.   
Draco was clearly, aside a toddler and two infants, the youngest relative, and quite luckily, had been overlooked mostly by his peers. Late teenagers and young adults desperately fought for attention among their nebulously debonair elders, and had not time for the likes of him

This girl must've been in her late teens, and rather obviously was a Malfoy from her pale grey eyes and silver blonde hair. She carried herself as if she was the queen of the world, and her eyes had a cruel arrogance to them. Ron began to tremble to his boots. He didn't even know her name… 

"Draco." She greeted in a snippy tone that matched her expression. "I hear you go to Hogwarts now…" It was, aside from the harsh edge, the tone of casual conversation. He relaxed slightly. He could bluff his way through this… with luck. 

"Yeah, a few years now. A little out of touch, are you?" He hoped Draco's cold, casual insults were a family thing…

She didn't seem phased. "Hmmm, I expected you to go to Durmstrang, you Da being in with the headmaster and all…" She leant against the mantle, watching him with a calculating look. There was something strange about her voice, a curiosity beyond the casual, like there was something about him that puzzled her  
Ron luckily remembered a conversation he'd overheard Draco having with his cronies on that very subject. And of course his relating conversation about shoving him off glaciers. He smirked in remembrance. "No, my mother didn't want me far away from home, and father was already a school governor…"   
"MY father would never send ME to a school run by a muggle lover." She said, a slight light coming to her eyes. In a leap of intuition, he figured that this irritable looking relative and Draco often argued about their fathers. That was what this seemed to be leading to anyway. He screwed himself up, running over everything the little slime ball Draco did when you had a go at his Dad, and tried to imitate it. 

"My father has more faith in me then to think the teachings of a muggle loving wizard in his dotage would have any effect on me!" There. Take that. But to his chagrin, she grinned even more

"Your father takes leaps of faith… You're young and impressionable…"  
"How DARE you suggest that I would dishonor my family! The great Salazar Slytherin knew what he was talking about, and I happen to be in his house where the old ways are NOT forgotten! And the dark lord himself studied there…."

"But not under Albus Dumbledore, of whom the dark lord is AFEARED of! And definitely not in the same year as his downfall… Harry Potter"

Ron screwed up his face trying to make the look of total contempt Draco got any time anyone mentioned Harry's name.   
"Potter!" He spat "It's always about Potter! Well neither I, nor my friends go down on bended knee to that little…."

"Draco…" It was the first time (and last, he figured) he'd been glad to hear Lucius Malfoy's cold voice. This argument was straining, seeing he didn't believe a word of it, and he knew nothing of this relative and no one won an argument from the defensive. "Lunch is being prepared. Would you escort your second cousin to the sunroom?" It wasn't much of a question, but then again, Mr. Malfoy only seemed to know how to make demands. 

"Yes father." He said. At least he knew the girl's relation to him.  
"Uncle." The girl greeted, although she had hinted she though Lucius sub standard, her manner was all high respect.  
"Ramona." He greeted in return "Your father informed me you've graduated from Kinkentleigh. Congratulations." He said it in an almost amused way. Ramona grimaced theatrically.   
"A bit late… but my father's always distracted. Thank you, Uncle."   
"if we'd have known we would have sent you a graduating gift…"   
Ramona's eyes lit up "You still can uncle…" She said cheekily. Lucius smiled thinly.   
"Ah yes, nothing like Knockturn alley in Canada, is there? Perhaps, if your father decides to stay a few days, we may take you shopping to choose yourself something."   
She beamed dazzlingly, and Ron noted, without her usual sneer, she was quite pretty. He quickly turned that thought away remember that also, in this body, she was his cousin. Albeit second.

"I'll make sure he decides to. Come on Draco, I'm hungry, and your house elf makes stupendous Christmas dinners…"   
Lucius' eyes darkened and Ron repressed a smile. Ramona noticed Lucius' look.   
"What happened to you elf, uncle? You look as if he were freed or…" His face grew darker "oh… I'll get Draco to tell me…" 

Lucius straightened slightly. "Yes…" He sounded distant "just make sure you two don't break too much of the furniture on the way to the sunroom while discussing it." He swept away.   
"We won't!" She called after him, before rounding delightedly on Draco "You LOST your house elf? What did you do, forget and hand him your washing?"   
He kept an eye on where Lucius was heading, having no idea where the sun room was as he replied.   
"No. The horrid little wretch betrayed us and snitched an idea father had in my second year to rid the school of mudbloods and muggle lovers to Harry Potter and Harry tricked us into freeing Dobby."  He rambled still following Lucius. She giggled wickedly.  
"So a twelve year old outsmarted your Dad?"  
Ron nodded, taking the left turn. "Yeah, we planted the dark lord's school diary which he enchanted to have a memory of him on one of Potter's friends, and she wrote in it all year. It would have been good if the stupid little geek hadn't figured it all out and saved the day, AS usual."   
Ramona was watching him with narrowed eyes  
"…Then Potter stuffed the diary into his sock and gave it to my father, who just discarded the sock and threatened Potter for his cheek. Dobby caught it and was freed…"  Ah, light ahead, the sunroom…  
"Are you alright Draco?" She asked, stopping him by grabbing his shoulder, the looked at her, startled.  
"I'm fine. Why?"   
"By now we're usually screaming at each other and throwing spells. And you seemed strange when I asked about Hogwarts… Like you thought I didn't know… What's up? It's like, a ongoing joke"

Of course! The family met every year… Obviously at different relations houses. She would have been teasing him about Hogwarts for years…  
"I- I just thought I'd take a different approach this year." He said lamely and she looked at him disbelievingly. He continued on.  
"You know throw you off…" He managed a laugh, a very weak laugh "And it worked alright! Look at your face! You really believed me!" She pursed her lips and punched him in the shoulder  
"little idiot." She said but with slight humour.   
Ron didn't have time to reply. He'd just entered the sunroom and his jaw dropped. It was like a dinner from a Christmas card. And the smell reminded him of a present Bill had sent once, wrapped in paper that had all this different Christmas food printed on it, and had given off the mingled scents of each. 

There were mountains of pudding and turkey and crackers and pies, of peas of gravy and roast vegetables. The decorations were costly, yet muted, and a warming spell made the room pleasant. Not even the Hogwarts Christmas dinner had been like this. There were exotic things lurking amongst the roast potatoes and trifles. Crayfish and prawns, cheese platters and caviar, strange fruits and desserts that made your mouth water with one look 

"Brrr… it's chilly in here" Ramona said, rubbing her arms. "You think you could have used a better warming spell."   
"it'll warm up with the people." He said, not feeling any cold at all. Then he remembered his sable cloak. "You can have my cloak if you're chilly."   
"She looked at him as if he'd just pronounced he'd renounce his wizarding ways and go live as a hermit in the Amazon.   
"no… no thank you." She seemed totally thrown.   
He shrugged and wandered around, looking for a free place. There was one at the head of the table. Lucius sat on the very end, with Narcissa on his left and a space on his right. It didn't take any genius to figure out where his place was.   
"I'd better join my parents." He excused, leaving the startled second cousin behind. 

Till next time folks… Draco chances a much lesser dinner with the Weaslys… O.O 

  
  


	8. Prince and Paupers

**Prince and the paupers**

Disclaimer: I'm just borrowing them for a time... don't mind me, I'll give them back when I've finished

Authors note: Now my friends have started on the 'Where's the next chapter?" bandwagon, so I'm hurrying a long

I finished TAFE a few months ago, and out 'puter has FINALLY been fixed, so I promise (Send me angry emails if I break it.) that the chapters will be flowing thick and fast. I don't think there are many more to go, anyway. 

Oh, and sorry people. For doubling up on the last chapter. it wasn't showing on my computer, so I thought I hadn't uploaded it. 

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He was thoroughly disgusted. 

There was barely a thing on the table. One tiny turkey, a few home made things, a handful of tarts and cakes, and one medium sized plum duff.  Nowhere near the size of his Christmas feast at home. Sure, there weren't the same number of relatives, but really- some of Draco's lunches at home had been bigger- and there were only three in the family. 

Not to mention the heat. It was humid in Mrs. Weasly's hothouse bubble, and they were all sweating an indecent amount. 

"Alright, tuck in!" Mrs. Weasly announced, enchanting a knife to cut up the turkey. 

"Tuck in? Tuck into what?" He sneered quietly as the rest of the extended family started dishing themselves up as if they hadn't eaten in years.   
He sighed, feeling a sullen rumble in his stomach. RON'S stomach to be correct. He limply picked up a spoon to a tureen of roast potatoes. 

"You are invited dear- here, let me- oh don't look so sad." Mrs. Weasly reached across the table, taking Draco's sullenness as unhappiness. Well it was- but a completely different reason.  
Molly piled his plate up inconceivably high, giving him an encouraging smile. "There you go dear, now eat up- can't have you starving on Christmas." Noting his slightly chagrined expression, she patted his hand  
"Oh, don't worry, you'll be back with your family quick as, dear, I have every confidence in Arthur. Now eat up." She turned to her own plate. 

Draco sniffed disdainfully and stabbed a soggy looking carrot. 

All in all, it wasn't bad- Mrs. Weasly was a better cook then he had thought (Although he'd die before he admitted it, even to himself) and as small as the set up had seemed to him, it was rather filling. He sat back, satisfied, full and contentedly warm- making him uncomfortably sleepy.  He caught Granger staring at him with a faint, malicious grin. Draco's expression snapped into a stony disapproval. She simply smiled more and he resisted the tingle in his hand, tempting him to throw a bowl of custard at her. 

"Well- seems we're all full up. Now.." She slapped her palms against the table, making Draco jump slightly

"Twitchy, isn't he?" Hermione said, with a smirk to Harry. He made a slight face at her and she made one back. 

"Children!" Mrs. Weasly scolded, giving the three of them a hard glare. He smiled with cold satisfaction as Hermione blushed and Harry looked ashamed. He caught her eye however, and shrank back slightly. How DARE she treat him like her own son? She had not authority over him, she wasn't even..

"Arthur?" Mrs. Weasly broke off her hostility, looking at her husband. Mr. Weasly hmmed and looked up with a mouthful of Pavlova*.   
Draco sneered. Disgusting pig.

"Why don't you try and contact the Malfoy's again, dear?" She suggested affectionately. Mr. Weasly nodded, quickly spooning up the last of his dessert and eating it speedily  
"Capital idea, love." He said, wiping his chin with a napkin, getting up heavily and stretching. "Fabulous tea, as usual dear." He patted his stomatch.  
Mrs. Weasly smiled indulgently "Thank the children too, dear, they were a marvelous help."   
Arthur inclined his head to Hermione and Harry, then Draco. "You'll make chefs out of them yet, Molly!" He said cheerfully before heading back inside. 

Chefs? Draco shuddered at the idea. 

"Come on now children, let's move inside." Mrs. Weasly said, getting up. "We'll see where Arthur gets then clean up the dishes.   
Draco almost choked on the sip of pumpkin juice he had just taken. CLEAN the dishes!? This was going way too far.  
"I'll stay with Mr. Weasly." he assured Molly "Just incase he gets through to my father." He said quickly

"No you won't. Arthur will call you if he gets through to your father, and a little bit of hard work won't kill you." She threatened, looking annoyed. 

He opened his mouth to protest hotly, but she turned her back on him and went inside. He hurried after her, anger at being ignored burning inside of him  
However, he was shoved rudely out of the way as Hermione and Harry walked past.   
"Afraid of a little dishwater and some grime, Malfoy?" She hissed, her eyes malicious. He sneered at her, wanting rather desperately to curse her into tiny little pieces. She saw his hatred and grinned, moving on  
  


Once inside, they found Mr. Weasly with his head in the fire, a small pot of floo powder beside him. His neck was moving slightly, indicating he was talking animatedly to someone on the other side.   
Draco paced the room, casting frequent, nervous glances at Mr. Weasly's progress. A little evil voice in his head hoping the floo powder would run out while he still had his head in the flames.  
Presently, with a little pop that made Draco jump about a foot and a half, Mr. Weasly came back through the fire, a regretful expression on his face  
"I'm sorry, Draco, I just can't seem to get to your father- or you mother for that matter. I think I might have to go to the Ministry" He said, shoulder's squared. "We're either going to have to take you to some magical reversers or St. Mungos." He took a pinch of floo powder and tossed it in the fire regretfully "I'll be back. Ministry of magic!" He announced, stepping into the emerald hued flames.

"Right!" Mrs. Weasly announced, clapping her hands together "Time to clean up the dishes, come on kiddy winks!" She announced, and Draco wasn't the only one to groan in consternation  
"C'mon Mum!" Bill complained "It's Christmas! Can't we do them on boxing day?"   
"Or maybe next Christmas?" George groaned, looking into the kitchen where the cooking utensils piled precariously high next to the sink  
His mother shot them a stern glare and they slumped their shoulders, dragging their feet to follow her out to the hothouse bubble where the tables still groaned under the weight of the now filthy dishes.   
  


Draco flinched. When eating off of them, he hadn't really been quite aware of how many there were- there had seemed, to his pampered senses, to have been a miniscule amount.   
Now, as the prospect of washing them all came up, they seemed to have tripled in amount between leaving them, and coming back.    
"How can we help?" Hermione asked, Draco turned his back and sneered at her simpering tone- sucking up, as usual.  
"You and Harry collect all the dishes dear, and bring it into the kitchen. Bill and Charlie can move the chairs, Fred and George can come inside and help me dry and put away, and Draco dear." She conjured up all manner of containers "Put the leftovers in these- and." She again conjured up a bin "All the scraps in here. Fred, George, come along!"   
"Awww Mum! Can't we stay out here and help the ferret with the food?"   
"Yeah! We'll make sure most of it gets in the containers."   
"MANNERS boys!" She scolded, brandishing a dish mop at them "You're coming inside. I don't wan a repeat of last Christmas' little food fight, now come on!" She gestured them follow her with her little mop and they followed, complaining every step of the way. 

Draco sighed and set his shoulders, clenching himself. That filthy Mr. Weasly should be back soon enough to get him out of this hole. He disdainfully picked up a plate of scraps scraping it into the bin, and stacking the plate to one side. He was half tempted to put the scraps in the containers and leftovers in the bin- in fact, he almost did with the next plate of scraps, but the thought of Mrs. Weasly bearing down on him like the Hogwarts express cowed him- there was no way to be sure exactly how long Mr. Weasly would be.  
"How you going, garbage boy?" Hermione quipped as she picked up the empty plates he'd left. Draco ignored her with some difficulty. He noted it odd however, Hermione seemed to be the more vocal then Harry. The solution was simple though- he mused as he scarped the plates off. Despite who he was really, he LOOKED like Ron, and Harry probably couldn't get around that. Draco smirked. Stupid Potter. 

He had moved onto carefully scraping leftovers into containers when Arthur Weasly banged the back door open.   
"Draco?" He called. Malfoy gratefully put the plate he was emptying down and hurried over, probably the only time in history a Malfoy was glad to see a Weasly.   
"Ah there you are lad- keep forgetting you look like Ron. silly me- whole reason I'm doing all this, isn't it? Come with me, lad, I've got a magical reversal unit quite happy to give us a hand, got them calling your father right now. Follow me. Say goodbye to Molly and we'll be off."   
Draco really wished he didn't have to. A silent exit would be far preferable, but Arthur was already back inside before Draco had a chance to object. He gave the wizard's back a disgusted look and scurried after him. 

"Molly!" Arthur called, sticking his head in the kitchen. "Got on to a magical reversal unit, taking the lad now, shouldn't be too long." he grabbed Draco unceremoniously and pushed him into the room.  
"Uh- thanks Mrs. Weasly." He said dryly, with a hint of sarcasm. Yeah, thanks for making the stay here hell.  
"No worries Draco dear- now you take care." She gave him a hug which he protested about rather strenuously, and she ignored, absently wiping his face with her apron.   
"I'm sure we'll see you come school time and we drop the children off. Lovely having you."   
"Can we come too, Mr. Weasly?" Hermione asked innocently as she brought in a stack of plates. 

"Yeah, we'd like to see Ron as soon as he changes back." Harry added, equally as innocent. Draco started to get suspicious. 

"Sure, sure children- come on then, follow me." Arthur said merrily, ignoring Molly's rather hard look for taking her helpers, leading them to the fireplace. "I'll go through first, and then you follow, okay?" He explained needlessly. Draco nodded. The only thing that kept him from retorting was the thought he'd be back- HOME- very soon. 

"Alright. Ministry of Magic!" He announced with his sprinkle of floo powder. With that, he vanished. 

"You go next, Draco." Hermione said with a slightly wicked grin "Don't keep your father waiting." 

"What's you're game, Granger?" He snarled, not trusting her smug tone one little bit. She shrugged, her smile a little evil as she held out the floo powder.   
Draco took a pinch, watching her with narrowed eyes as he tossed the powder into the flames and stepped in.  
"Ministry of magic!" 

*Pavlova: I'm not sure it's a dessert used in many other countries, I know it's apparently of Australian origin. It's a meringue cake topped with cream and sliced fruit, usually kiwi fruit, passion fruit and strawberries, and sometimes flaked chocolate. 

Eeeek! Finally done. I had so many difficulties making this chapter WORK.  


	9. Gingerbread house

**Gingerbread house**

Disclaimer: The characters are all borrowed. The plot's mine- JK Rowling couldn't write this terribly to save herself… 

Authors note: GUESS what? All you people lamenting at my horribly slow updates can now breathe easy.  I've finished this fic! "HURRAH, but where is it? I only see the new chapter… " Well, I'm spacing it out a little, say every fortnight. Gives my fic a chance to slide down the list a bit, so I can jack it back up the top and expose new victims *ahem* readers to my abominable attempts at fic writing. 

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Ron felt so stuffed he was sure he was the size of Harry's cousin, Dudley. Enthusiastic about all the glorious food on the table, he'd eaten FAR too much, trying almost everything. Although he'd given the caviar a miss… Even if he HADN'T know what it was, the sight of black, beady slimy looking stuff really didn't appeal to his stomach, and Ron was very in tune with his stomach's wants. 

The biggest trouble he'd had was eating utensils. There were HEAPS of them. Back at home he'd only ever been given a knife, a fork, and when occasion demanded it, a spoon, albeit all different sizes and patterns. His mother had never really worried about the proprieties of cutlery, and so poor Ron had been left out to sea when faced with a battalion of different sized, shaped knives forks spoons and a weird shaped spatula thing that looked like the lovechild of an egg flip, a spork and some mad scientist's evil tool.*  
However, his proximity to the evil Mr. Malfoy had given him an unexpected out. Careful study from the corner of his eye taught him the right order to eat his food, and all the weird little ceremonies he had to go through while eating.   
Napkins, he had always thought, were scrunched up and thrown at your sister, or, in the case of messier foods, used at the end of the meal to scrub your face with. When his parents saved up occasionally to treat them with a trip to Madam Mina's Magical feast house, and his Mum bullied he and his brothers into a semblance of decency, was tucked into the front of your shirt to stop drips.   
But Lucius Malfoy had other ideas. It was laid fastidiously on his lap.  Ron had followed suit, wondering what good it would do there. 

The only food eaten with your fingers were oysters, and even then, only picked up with your hands, the help of a curiously miniature fork got the slimy little buggers from the shell to your gullet.   
Ron discovered at that point, he didn't really LIKE oysters. In fact, it was all he could do not to choke as the slimy unpleasant creature slid its merry way down his throat to his desperately heaving stomach. 

Everything else had gone down fine. Dessert had been a particular hit. But it always was with Ron. Creamy delicacies from all around the world vied with each other for both visual opulence and orgasmic taste. From humble cherry tarts to candied dates from the orient, Ron had practically inhaled them all.   
 Then, to add to it- they had ANOTHER round bought out. Cheeses. Smooth creamy Brie to some peculiar cheese with bits of blue through it that Ron found to his horror, was mould. Looking around he discovered that it was either supposed to be there and was one of those bizarre delicacies like oysters, or they were all blind and suddenly developed a numb pallet. 

The other addition to the meal that was totally foreign to Ron had been a great disappointment.  It seemed that the Malfoy's traditionally drank wine with their meals. Ron, having a mother who rather loudly protested the idea of any son under eighteen drinking anything stronger then butterbeer, had never let Ron NEAR wine. So rather predictably, he'd been rather keen on trying it. 

However, the white wine brought out for the first course didn't live up to his expectations. Mrs. Malfoy had thought it was spectacular.  He had heard her saying just that to her husband, but all in all, Ron felt like it tasted rather like pickling juice for some long dead fruit.

The red, (apparently delightfully robust with a delightful oak tone, according to some nameless family member) had been, if possible, even worse. It tasted like they filled in the crack in muggle roads with it.  

The white that had accompanied the dessert hadn't been too bad. It was sweetish, which kind of helped kill the whole rotted fruit taste.**

Not to say the meal had been all new taste experiences and pleasant fullness. During the main course, something had happened to shake even Ron's iron stomach.

A servant had come in, bearing a note on a silver tray as the chef wait staff had set up the table. Ron had chosen a nice fish cutlet, and was digging in, attention half focused curiously on the note. 

Lucius had neatly laid down his eating implements and taken the note, reading it with an upraised eyebrow.   
"What is it, Lucius?" Narcissa asked, after carefully finishing her mouthful. Ron noted neither ever seemed to use affectionate terms like 'dear' 'love' or anything else his parents habitually called each other. Maybe it was another one of those weird posh people things. 

He was frowning slightly "An accidental magical reversal crew has summoned Draco and myself to the Ministry… apparently by the request of Arthur Weasly…"

At that point Ron choked on his mouthful, Dad must know! He thought joyously, trying not to die in the process.   
Lucius Malfoy slammed him rather forcefully on the back. Aside the stinging pain, Ron had to admit he was somewhat grateful- he hadn't been having much luck getting that little bit of fish out of his windpipe alone. 

He faced the table's silent curious stares.   
"Fishbone." He lied weakly, feeling rather flushed.   
He hadn't really expected what happened next. Lucius turned a cold eye on the now cringing cook.

"Fishbone?" He repeated an edge to his voice. The cook retreated even further. "Was the meal, prepared incorrectly?" The silence was deafening, and Ron began to feel a little apprehensive.  
"Master Malfoy… I..I checked it all thoroughly! There shouldn't've been…"   
"Shouldn't but was." Malfoy cut in imperiously. His look grew dangerous. "Unless you're calling my son a liar…?" 

The cook's expression grew frantic and he shook his head furiously. 

Without so much as a change in expression, Lucius detached his wand from his cane and leveled it at the now terrified cook.   
"Crucio." He said simply. 

Ron almost felt his jaw hit the floor in horror as the cook writhed around shrieking. Guilt tore at him… it had been his lie. But how was HE to know? But no matter how he denied knowledge, the burning fact that HIS lie had done this bored into him. 

After a few seconds that seemed to last a year each, Lucius cut the spell off. The cook staggered to his feet, terror in his eyes.  
"It won't happen again, Master Malfoy…" The cook promised, cringing from the room. 

"What do you plan to do abut the summons, Lucius?" Narcissa asked, apparently oblivious or numb to her husband's cruel brutality. Lucius flicked out the note as if nothing had happened.  
"I'm not going to spoil Christmas dinner by running off now- particularly in the view it's on that disgusting muggle loving Weasly's promptings." He said with a disdainful sneer. If Ron hadn't been so shocked over the casual use of an illegal curse in domestic punishment, he'd have protested, despite his current form. 

"But a summons…" Narcissa continued.  
"I know. After lunch we'll go- though I am tempted…" He left it hanging. His wife gave him a stern look. "IF, Narcissa I knew what it was about. However, I do not, so we shall go."

Now, dinner had well and truly past and Ron sat there with that bloated, lazy feeling of too much good food. He had deliberately put the punishment of the cook out of his mind,   
"Draco." Lucius said sharply, getting to his feet. It took Ron about half a second to remember he was talking to him. Luckily, Lucius' back had been turned so he didn't see the slight delay.  
"Yes father?" He replied, a little warily.   
"Come. We'll clear up this Weasly matter before we adjourn to the sitting room for gifts." He was already heading out the door. Ron hauled himself to his feet, eagerly, wanting rather desperately to escape this evil place.   
They crossed several rooms, each more creepily opulent then the last. Snakes seemed to be in evidence rather often, forming possibly the basis for just about every piece of decoration. Black seemed to be the favoured colour but there were hints of green now and then and silky greys.   
Finally, they reached what Ron could only surmise to be the sitting room, seeing a huge heap of presents were piled underneath a tree that seemed to be dredged from a nightmare. It was huge, and smelled resinous. The decorations were all neat and precisely placed, like something from a gift shop display made by some evil madman. The decorations were, predictably, silver snakes with glowing eyes curled around the branches, red, drip shaped glass hangers made the branches look like they were weeping blood, and black candles gave out an almost sinister light from the branches. An angel sat atop the tree, but not like any angel Ron had ever seen. She stared down evilly, her robe black as her wings and a scythe in her tiny hand. She smiled wickedly when she saw Ron.   
Even the silvery tinsel seemed muted and evil in some way,   
Lucius took a pot of floo powder down from the mantle. The pot, like everything in the house, was sleek and black, with the outline of a silver serpent twisted around it.

He took a handful and basically shoved the pot into Ron's hand. A muffled hiss came from where the snake's head design on the pot was pressed against his shirt. Ron almost dropped the pot in surprise, holding it out at arm's length.   
Lucius tossed the powder into the flames with a negligent flip and stepped into them.   
"Ministry of magic" he said curtly, vanishing into the green flames.   
Ron hesitated, looking around. The pot hissed at him again, and hurriedly, he grabbed a handful, tossed them in the flames and stepped into the fireplace, putting the pot on the floor as he went.  
"Ministry of magic!" He said hurriedly, relief washing over him as the creepy, foul, nightmarish Malfoy mansion vanished from sight.

Oooh! Almost there! I can tell you now that there will be two more chapters after this and a short epilogue. The epilogue is just an anecdote, so it'll be added on with the last chapter. 

*A fish knife. Those things are freaky looking bastards.   
** I actually like wine myself, so don't go sending me protests about how tasty it is and how dare I write such things. I'm writing from the point of view of an adolescent's first taste of the stuff, and VERY few people I know, myself included, liked wine their first try of it. You only tend to taste the bad things. When you get over the shock of that, it tastes better, but I'm not here to write a convoluted description of how pallets change as we grow older.


	10. The Waiting game

**The waiting game**

Disclaimer: 'Tain't mine.

Authors note: Neeeearly there! Second last chapter! You excited?

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Draco paced up and down the highly polished floors of the ministry, while Arthur Weasly spoke in low tones to a magical reversal squad. Where WAS his father?

"Looks like your Dad's given up on you…" Harry smirked from behind. Draco wheeled around, glaring balefully  
"Shut up Potter, at least I HAVE parents." He snapped, aiming the comment at Harry's tragic little orphan side. Hermione narrowed her eyes, however and shot back.  
"Maybe he likes Ron better then you…" She said over sweetly, hands on her hips.  
"Hardly!" Draco snorted. "Weasly's probably too scared to admit to my father he's not really me… Who KNOWS what father would do…" He smirked at that pleasant thought. Maybe his father had killed the stupid weasel. 

"That'd be your tough luck then." Harry snapped, not seeming to have been effected at all by Draco's snippy comment. "After all, he IS in your body…" 

That thought had never occurred to Draco, and worry started to gnaw at him  
"Yeah, that's right…" Hermione grinned "You'd be stuck like this…"   
"And think…" Harry continued, wearing an identical grin to Hermione's. "You'd be stuck looking like Ron forever…"   
"Your father would hate the very sight of you…"   
"EVERYONE'D think you were Ron…"   
"You'd probably have to live at the Burrow"   
"And be in Gryffindor…"   
"SHUT UP!" He snarled, annoyed terribly by the fact that Ron's body reacted to embarrassment and anger FAR more obviously then his own, his ears burned terribly. 

Hermione primly brushed off a fleck of spit that had landed on her robes.   
"What's all this racket?" Arthur Weasly asked, smiling good naturedly. "Things a bit tense?" He eyed off the stand off. 

"Nothing Mr. Weasly." Hermione said sweetly, throwing Draco a smug look "Just a heated discussion." 

"Well, keep it down children." He advised, moving away a few paces, but still close enough to be in earshot.   
Draco gave him, Potter and Granger a vile look.   
"Just you wait till my father gets here!" He muttered. 

An hour had passed, and even Hermione and Harry had tired of Draco baiting, and were sitting beside the large, gaudy fountain, talking quietly. Arthur Weasly was watching fireplaces tensely, and the Magical reversal squad were looking at their watches.   
Draco sat on the opposing side of the fountain to Granger and Potter, and was trailing his fingers in the water, counting the coins on the bottom to keep wild speculations at what was taking his father so long out of his mind. 

76, 77, 78, 79…  
"Arthur, do you think we should summon him again?" One of the Magical reversers asked in a low undertone.   
Mr. Weasly shook his head. "No… he's probably just tied up, it IS Christmas, after all."   
92, 93, 94, 95…

"I wonder if Ron's okay though…" Hermione's soft voice sounded faintly over the tinkle of the fountain "If that vile Mr. Malfoy's done anything to him…"   
"Come on Hermione, Ron's not stupid enough to tell them who he really is…" Harry soothed  
"Yeah, but what if he gave himself away somehow?"   
124, 125, 126, 127…

"You ever come across something like this before, Lester?" One of the magical reversers asked another languidly  
"Yeah only once though, a couple of old wizards, been friends for years, thought it was a great laugh when they figured out what happened." 

138, 139, 140….  
There was an unmistakable whoosh of floo powder and Lucius Malfoy stepped through a fire grate to the left of the party, followed seconds after what looked uncannily like Draco himself. 

Without thinking, Draco leapt up off the fountain and ran to his father  
"FATHER!" he half shouted, forgetting that, for all intents and purposes he looked and sounded like Ron Weasly.   
Lucius Malfoy reacted almost instinctively, but the callous coldness of the action made all around wince. He swung his cane with a negligent flick of his wrist, sending, unbeknownst to him, his son flying off to one side, scored across the face.   
"Keep your whelp under control, Arthur." He said with a sneer, giving Draco a look of venom.   
He didn't know! Draco looked up at Ron, inhabiting HIS body, with something close to homicidal rage. How DARE he! How DARE that filthy poor little sproglet fool HIS father! HOW DARE he impersonate him! How DARE he wear his clothes- and his BEST sable cloak! It was probably worth the Weasly hovel twelve times over. He staggered to his feet.   
Ron was looking back at him, paler then normal, his expression strangely Ron Weasly molded on his own features. Ron looked scared. Well, at least that was SOME consolation. 

"What on earth did you uproot Draco and myself from our FAMILY Christmas to drag us all the way to the ministry for Arthur? This had better be decent." Lucius spat frostily, much to Draco's pride. 

Arthur Weasly, however, showed no outwards signs of apprehension. Probably too stupid to realize the full power of his father, Draco thought derisively. 

"To clear up a little magical mistake, Lucius." He said firmly. Mr. Malfoy made a slight sound of disgust  
"By God, Arthur, can't you fix up your own mistakes without screaming for people of much higher power? Unlike you, I have things that need to be attended to…"  
"It's not just Christmas in the Malfoy house, Lucius." Arthur said, eyeing Draco's father with dislike "But this matter concerns us both…"   
"Both? How could some petty worry of a muggle loving fool concern me?"  Lucius started, looking highly suspicious.  

"Well, you might have noticed your son has been acting quite strangely today…" Arthur said, flashing a smile at Ron, who was looking both thoroughly relieved, and dreadfully nervous. Lucius Malfoy's hand was on his shoulder. A gesture Draco knew quite well. A mark of pride, possession and restraint. At the moment it was acting more of the later for the desperate looking Ron.   
"Draco?" Lucius asked with a disbelieving look, throwing a glance at what he thought was his sweating son. "What's he got to do with…?"  
"Everything Lucius. See we have quite a great deal of evidence that your son and my son, Ron, accidentally performed a rare piece of magic, quite by accident, where they both… switched bodies…"   
Lucius snatched his hand away from the pseudo Draco with a look of slight horror, staring at the now pasty Ron. Draco smirked. 

_It all concludes next chapter, sports fans, with the simultaneously uploaded Epilogue tacked on because it's kind of amusing, but really short…   
Sorry this wasn't longer, but it really HAS to jump to Ron's POV now…   
  
_


	11. Reversal of fortune

**The waiting game**

Disclaimer: This document on the screen of your PC involves characters and concepts belonging to a dear young Scottish lass by the name of JK Rowling, and also now owned by a big greedy nasty company called Warner brothers that USED to be fun and nice and made cool cartoons.   
The author of this piece of fiction would like to add that she does Not make money out of this piece of fictitious writing- she just enjoys writing it.  

Authors note: That's it! LAST chapter! There's a little epilogue tacked on the end out of amusement, but basically the last meaty bit of the story is here… (Hmmm… note to self- never use the word "meaty" as a verb.)

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Lucius recovered his composure rather quickly however. Ron noted with a slight relief he did NOT return his hand to the almost painfully tight possessive grip he had before.   
"Preposterous Arthur." He sneered "I have heard of no such spell." Ron began edging away slightly, but felt a firm grip on his arm, Looking around wildly he saw Draco… looking through his own eyes. Again, he got this wave of unreality about it all. Harry and Hermione moved up behind Draco glaring at him.   
"Father, it's true, this disgusting Weasly stole my body. I woke up in this." The Draco/Ron said, holding out his arm, face twisting into a mask of pure disgust.   
Lucius' eyes were moving, going from Draco to Ron to Arthur to the magical reversal unit.   
"If this is some kind of joke…" He hissed. One of the reversers came forward.  
"No joke Mister Malfoy. We believe the spell was activated when both Your son and Mister Weasly's fell asleep on the thought of BEING each other…"   
"Is this true?" Lucius snapped, somewhere between Draco and Ron, obviously unsure who to address it to.  
"Yes father." Draco said obediently. Lucius repressed a slight shudder at being addressed so out of what appeared to be Ron's mouth. "I was wondering just last night how disgustingly depressing and tatty a Christmas at a hole like the Weasly's would be…"   
"DON'T you talk about my house like that you disgusting… evil…" Ron started yelling, then slapped a hand over his mouth, stepping back from about to throttle… himself, really.  
Lucius turned his gaze onto him, a cold pinning, piercing gaze that suddenly made Ron's insides freeze.   
"So…"He snarled, advancing on him "So… You pretended to be my son. You ate at our table, you…" his face contorted with rage, as he undid his wand from his cane, Ron was retreating rapidly, terrified. He'd seen what this man would do as casual punishment…  
 "LUCIUS!" Arthur said sharply, grabbing the fuming Malfoy and wrenching him back. For a few seconds it looked as if Lucius would turn on Arthur.  
"Lucius, that's your son's body, you harm it…" Arthur warned. Lucius regained his composure in about half a second.  
"Quite right." He gestured to the reversal unit. "Change them back." He grabbed Draco's arm, Draco still in Ron's form. Draco had been smiling smugly as his father had almost dismembered Ron, but was now looking a little disappointed.   
"Wait a minute Lucius." Arthur said smoothly, grabbing Draco's other arm   
"When they change back, the body's will remain the same."  
Ron bit his lip. His father guided him slowly to the man that had, seconds ago, looked like he was about to curse him.   
"I don't want you in possession of my son when they're returned. Give him here." Arthur said calmly. Lucius' eyes narrowed in hate.   
"You think I would harm the boy?" He asked, insulted. Arthur continued relentlessly.  
"No, Lucius, I KNOW you would." He tugged the now sulky looking Draco free and pulled him out of Lucius' reach.   
Lucius snatched Ron to him, his grip painfully tight.   
"Alright, get this done with. I am needed at home." He snarled.  
The magical reversers both faced one boy each, and began intoning a slightly complicated sounding spell. Ron felt nervous with the hand cutting circulation off in his arm, and the steady, unblinking gaze of the reverser. He tried to catch the words the reverser was saying but there was a buzzing in his ears.  
There was suddenly a strange mauveish light enveloping him, and he felt extremely light and tingly- it was almost enjoyable.   
He grew very warm and the scene started to look as if it was all underwater, wavering. Or through heat waves… or… He suddenly felt the too much food he'd eaten churning in his stomach. No. Draco's stomach. He shut his eyes, trying o block out the madly wavering scenery making him feel motion sick.   
but between one breath and the next, he felt… different. Taller, not quite as full, lighter dressed, colder. He pain was no longer in his arm, but across his face. He tasted blood…   
He opened his eyes and was looking at a different reverser. Beyond them were Draco and Lucius. His spirits soared, it had worked!

"Ron?" His father asked (HIS father!!! Not Draco's!)  
He nodded, rubbing his face.   
"Yeah, 'sRon."   
He heard Hermione give a low squeal, hugging him and Harry patting him on the shoulder. He suddenly felt all the anxiety from before melting away.

Lucius was glaring at him across the room, but neither reverser seemed to want to move. He felt enormously grateful for them.  
"Come on Dad, let's go home. I got presents to open!" he said, wanting that almost as much as he wanted to get out of Mister Malfoy's way…  
"Come Draco." Lucius ordered, sending his son scurrying after him.

"So, Ron. What did you learn?" His father asked him as they waited their turn for the floo powder. Harry had already gone and Hermione was just getting her pinch now.  
 "Well, money can't by everything- as cool as the food and all the stuff was, I like it home MUCH better." He said, taking his own pinch now as Hermione's green flames vanished.  
"Good boy Ron… at least it wasn't a total waste." Arthur smiled, as the ministry dissolved before Ron in a rush of green.

"So, Draco, what did you learn?" Lucius asked as they strode down the hall to the dining area of their mansion.   
"There's nothing appealing at all about poor, muggle loving fools." Draco spat, annoyed at how full he was. Stupid Ron.  
"Good boy, Draco" Lucius smiled nastily as they entered the dining area. "At least your ghastly time there didn't erode your morals."

_ENDE… Well, except for the little Epilogue._


	12. Epilouge

**Epilogue**

Back at school, Hermione was in deep conversation with Ginny as they all stood, waiting for the doors to the great hall to open for Lunch.   
"For the LAST time, WHAT are you two up to?" Ron asked, exasperated. Harry just looked on curiously.   
Hermione smiled "It's nothing…. Watch."   
The doors opened and people started shoving past the, Draco was one of them, flanked as always by Crabbe and Goyle.

"Mudblood, Potty and the weasel." Draco sneered "Managed to save up enough for new dress robes yet, Weasly? Or did you have to borrow another one of your sister's dresses this year?"   
Crabbe and Goyle guffawed in sync, as they passed. Ron was about to run after him and punch his lights out, but Hermione held her hand out  
"Watch…."   
They went into the hall, and hurried to catch up to Malfoy and his lackeys. Ginny picked up a wooden spoon from a table, hefting it a few times, testing its weight, before replacing it with a ladle.

"What the…?" Ron asked, but grinning, Hermione shushed him.

When they were close enough, Ginny put her ability to impersonate people to great use.   
"Draco!" She said in an almost flawless impersonation of Lucius Malfoy, whacking the ladle down on his shoulder. Draco almost leapt a mile, swinging around, looking both alarmed and terrified. The expression suggested 'what have I done NOW?'   
"Father?" He gasped, his expression turning to flat hate as Ginny, Hermione, Harry and Ron dissolved into laughter.  
"Jumpy, aren't we? Thought Daddy's come to spank you?"   
They all strode off tot heir table, laughing hysterically, leaving Draco looking daggers at them.

_End. No more. Done. Hope you enjoyed the ride as much as I did. There will be more stories when I get around to it! ;)   
Reviews are ALWAYS appreciated… grins all innocent like_


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